The Circle, Unbroken
by crystal bard
Summary: Is vengeance right with two warring races? Anyway, if you review it, I'll review something of yours.
1. The Start of an Obsession

The night was windy, very windy. Gusts reached over fifty miles an hour. The poorly thatched roofs of the Cazmarae tribe, along with the rest of the houses, were being blown to pieces. The newly instructed main hall of the tribe, located in the center of the camp, was the only building that could withstand the wind. It was built to hold against the workings of war, wind would not be a problem.  
  
The great hall, called Cazmerit, looked more like a church from the inside. There was a stage with a lectern on it. Before the stage lay twenty dual rows of pews. Standing behind the lectern was the chief of the tribe. He was a common person. He stood almost six feet tall, weighed about three hundred eighty pounds. He adorned the furs of the deer native to the region, underneath the fur was a breast plate and cured leather breeches. He wore no boots, and had a helmet made from the hip bone of a deer, with fur covering the rather unsightly looking piece of the deer's skeletal structure. His skin was a rough, leathery green. He had rusty- red eyes, and his unusually long canines, a sign of supremacy in the tribe (much the reason he was the chief) came past his lower lip.  
  
"We must come to order!" yelled Grisraw the chief as he banged the small wooden hammer on the lectern.  
  
The crowd of over a hundred went silent with those authoritative words; there were important matters to discuss.  
  
"Hem, stand before me!" came the low, gruff voice of the chief.  
  
A five foot orc, dressed quite the same way Grisraw was, stood up from the pews and ran up to the base of the stage. He kneeled, silently.  
  
"Hem, your job is to take the women and children back to the Apindara Valley!"  
  
"Hail Chief!" exclaimed the midget orc in a tenor voice as he rose and turned around. All boys under the age of thirteen and women were already rising and preparing to leave. Orcs lived to be about sixty, which wasn't too shabby. Most males grew to full height and weight at about age twenty-three, women around twenty.  
  
"Lesfrau, stand before me!"  
  
An orc of about nine hundred pounds, carrying a two hundred eighty pound, six foot long log of wood, who stood almost eight feet himself, stood up. He was the largest of the fighters in the Cazmarae tribe. Grisraw was the chief because he was the smartest; he was by far not the strongest or the toughest.  
  
Lesfrau ran to the base of the stage and kneeled, silently.  
  
"You will-"  
  
"Die. Quite like the others."  
  
All the orcs took their weapons in hand. A few roared in anger. All were surprised.  
  
Just then a figure faded into the visible spectrum. It was a frail man of about five and a half feet. He had long black hair, pulled back in a pony tail. He wore blue robes, common attire for the servants of magic in the human kingdom. His eyes glowed white, meaning magic was welling up inside him: magic to be used. A staff was held in his right hand. It was gnarled and wooden, with a clear sphere on the top.  
  
"Yes, sadly, all of you. All of you who have killed thousands of humans, raped hundreds of women, and defiled tons of crops. All of you will pay for the evils you have committed!"  
  
As those words were said, the man grasped his staff with both hands. The whiteness from his eyes glowed brighter and the sphere became translucent. "All of you will burn in the filthy painful everlasting fiery hell!"  
  
The brick roof above began to shake. Bricks fell from the sturdy ceiling. Stones of thirty pounds and more crashed upon warriors and mothers alike. Screams echoed throughout the hall as the sound of crunching bone and ripping sinew filled the scene. Two in this entire structure were safe. The wizard, and an orc-child who had hidden at the first sight of the human. There was a trap door in the back of the hall all the way to the right. There, at age fifteen, lay the orc. He could hear the screams of his mother, of his brother, they were all sentenced to death by this human.  
  
Once the bricks ran out, the wizard screamed at the top of his lungs: "And may your evil heart explode into a thousand pieces!"  
  
His words seemed to come from everywhere at once. It was as if a thousand mean surrounded the hall and screamed in perfect unison.  
  
As those harsh words were spoken, orcs' chest began to explode. Ribs, lungs, stomachs, everything flew across the inside of the hall. Blood poured from the gaping wounds found in every orc. Cries were silenced as their heart seemed to leap out of their very chest. Blood seeped through the planks; dark, rich, thick blood oozed onto the skin of the boy. The revulsion welled up inside him. He turned to the side and vomited up his roast pork dinner.  
  
After a few minutes, the scene was over; and the human faded once again into the spectrum of invisible light before leaving. He tipped-toed through the macabre pilings of ravaged orc bodies.  
  
As for the boy, he cried himself to sleep. When he awoke, he got out of the trap door, out of the hall. He stared over the windblown trees of the coniferous forest into the sky. The sun was almost overhead.  
  
The boy was now a man. He had resolve, he had a quest.  
  
The man would die for what he did, and he, Gustrau, would be the one who would do it.  
  
End Part One 


	2. Help for the boy?

The Apindara Valley wash a lush dip in the Chadzara Mountains. Grass about two inches high, soft and green, covered this beautiful place. An orchard was in the valley as well, producing ripe, delectable green apples. A herd of buffalo were known to live in the area, though they were not there now.  
  
No sign of orc was in this land, except for one poorly made hut of logs. Inside this lean-to of logs was a creature, a monster by human standards. Even among Orcish lore these creatures were to be respected and feared.  
  
The name of the monster was troll. Orcs called such a race Nefrege, or mighty. These animals, though having a generally wiry appearance, had surprising strength. They were best known for their hunting skills. The monsters were blessed with infrared vision. They also had arms that were quite long. When standing upright, which was very hard considering their hunched spinal column, their hands could touch their knee caps.  
  
They were bi-pedal, but they were different from the orcs and humans in many ways. Their skin felt very brittle and dry. If the skin was touched or rubbed too much, a thick, mucus like liquid would erupt from the crinkly skin. Once the mucus dried, the skin was back to normal. This mucus under the skin allowed the creature to heal mostly superficial wounds of the skin. There are tales of total regeneration, but those are mostly rubbish.  
  
Trolls also had tusks that were about six inches long. They came from the corners of their mouth. Their nose was larger and protruded much farther form their face than the humans (Orcs practically had no nose). The head was shorter and a little wider than humans too, with a more lumped forehead and longer jaws. The skull of a troll was quite distinguishable from that of a human or orc.  
  
Their skin was for the most part grey. They were common in the forests of the north. By hiding in the trees, the monster's grey form served as camouflage, since the dark clouds in that area were grey as well.  
  
Obviously, this troll was out of place. Gustrau sought to talk to the beast. When the Cazmarae tribe descended into the area, the troll, named Oswrot, had helped them settle down. He even helped build the great hall. Gustrau needed his assistance for his difficult task.  
  
He found the troll's hut. The troll had seen the young, wiry youth coming long before Gustrau had even found the hut. "I smelled your reek boy," Stated the troll in a harsh tone from inside the hut, "Before you came into the valley." (Both orcs and humans produced a very strong odor. They were not hunting races, and thus had very productive sweat glands.)  
  
With a very stern look on his face, Oswrot emerged from the lean-to and stood before the orc boy. He stood about 6'3'' when hunched, which was common height for the race.  
  
With an equally hard face, Gustrau matched the grim stare of the mighty hunter. "My people have died, I need your helped."  
  
Oswrot's features went from the harsh stare to an understanding look. "I smelled the orcish blood in the wind the night before. So it was the slaughter of your tribe?"  
  
"Yes," said the determined orc, "I want you to help me." Gustrau, though considered a weak orc in all respects to his physiognomy, had extreme mental prowess and could handle such heavy emotional experiences. He had suffered greatly two days before, but now all he felt was the wish of death for the human.  
  
The troll glanced upward. The sky had gone from a clear blue to a dark and dismal grey. The change had been almost instant, as it had been clear when Oswrot first spoke to the boy. He sniffed the air, "We must come in. There is magic at work here."  
  
The orc entered the stick hut. Before his eyes could adjust to the light change, Oswrot turned around and shoved his fist hard against the face of the orc. The pain shot through his contorted countenance and it went all the way to his rapidly bowing back. He felt his nose crack as the concussion of the blow knocked him to the ground. The world was black. Gustrau had been knocked unconscious. 


End file.
